PART 7 – “IN THE PORT WHERE MY FATHER DREAMED OF TAKING ME, I FOUND HIS LAST GIFT — AND LEARNED WHAT IT MEANT TO KEEP A PROMISE FOR A WHOLE LIFE”

The wind in the port of Saint-Nazaire was strong that afternoon.

The waves were gently lapping against the stone waterfront.

Seagulls were flying over the ships.

And I was walking next to Theo, holding my father’s old letter in my bag.

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

— In a small naval museum, near the port.

— Why there?

Theo smiled.

— My grandfather had left something in the custody of an old friend of his.

We arrived at a low stone building.

A man in his seventies was waiting for us at the entrance.

— You must be Theo, he said.

— Yes. And this is Mrs. Josianne Petit.

The man looked at me with emotion.

— Finally.

He took out a small wooden box from a cupboard.

Two initials were engraved on it.

A.P.

My father’s initials.

“Gérard confided it to me years ago,” he said. “He asked me to give it to his daughter Henri when she was learning the story.”

I took it in my hands.

It was light.

Inside was a small shell.

A children’s ribbon.

And a folded piece of paper.

I opened it.

“My Zozia,

When I get back, I’ll take you to the sea.

I’ll show you the ships.

I will teach you to distinguish seagulls from afar.

And I will tell you that, no matter how big the world seems, there is always a road that leads home.

If I never manage to take this walk with you, I want you to know that I dreamed of it a thousand times.

“Your dad.”

I closed my eyes.

For sixty-four years I had wondered if my father had ever loved me.

I was so young when he died.

I didn’t remember his voice.

I didn’t remember his hands.

I didn’t remember his face except from photographs.

And now I held in my hands proof that he had already imagined me growing up.

How he had made plans for me.

How he had dreamed of a simple walk by the sea.

I cried.

Not like I cried as a child, when I asked why others had a father and I didn’t.

I cried differently.

For the man I never met.

For my mother, who tried to protect me by hiding the truth.

For Gerard, who carried a promise like a burden.

And for all the years that had been lost.

Theo stood next to me.

— My grandfather said that your father was the bravest man he had ever met.

I looked at him.

— I also believe that your grandfather was brave.

The young man smiled.

— He wouldn’t agree.

— Then I would tell him.

We left the museum.

We walked to the waterfront.

The sun was setting.

I held the small shell in my palm.

— So there you go, Dad, I whispered. We’ve come to the sea.

Theo stood a little further back.

He left me space.

And for the first time in my life, my father’s absence didn’t just feel like a void.

It also seemed like love that had arrived late.

That night, returning home, I found a message on my voicemail.

It was from Nathan.

— Zoziane, I want to talk to you about something. I thought of an idea for next November 11th. I’d like us to organize it together.

I called him.

— What did you think?

His voice sounded hesitant.

— I want to keep table four as it was.

— With two coffees?

— Yes. But not just for one day.

I remained silent.

— I want to put up a little sign, he said. For Gerard and Henri. And for all the people who are waiting for someone who won’t come back.

My eyes filled with tears.

— Nathan…

— I also spoke to my father. He wants to see you.

— Why?

Nathan hesitated.

— Because there’s something he never told you about Mr. Lambert.

My heart beat fast.

— What?

— My father knew who you were from the beginning. And he had made a promise to Gerard that he had never revealed to me.

CONTINUED IN PART 8…